


Code Red

by flurblewig



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flurblewig/pseuds/flurblewig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ats S5.  Spike, doing what he does best:  winding people up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Code Red

Angel looked slowly around the table. "Can someone - anyone - explain to me how this happened?"

 

Gunn shrugged. "I got nothing."

 

Wesley looked thoughtful. "Wofram and Hart does own this building. Some kind of residual evil may still linger, a subtle form of influence that we weren't sufficiently aware of."

 

"Well, something unnatural has to be going on, because this?" Angel gestured at the men seated around him, then at the room in general. "This just isn't right."

 

Spike slammed his bottle of beer down on the table. "Oh, for fuck's sake. What the hell is so wrong with a few mates going out for a drink after a hard day at the office? It's perfectly natural."

 

"We're not mates, Spike, in case you hadn't noticed. And excuse me, but when did five hours spent downloading porn from the internet and staring at Harmony's ass constitute a hard day at the office?"

 

Spike picked up the bottle again, took a long swig and then leant back with it resting on his crotch. "Well, okay, the whole day wasn't hard. I did have to go and take care of things once or twice. Gets a mite painful otherwise, you know? Or no, on second thoughts you probably don't know. You never were one to take proper advantage of your opportunities, were you Pops?"

 

"Don't call me that."

 

"Why? Don't you like being the daddy any more? It always used to do it for you."

 

"Spike, for the love of - and I don't know what you're laughing at, mister."

 

Gunn spread his hands. "Nothing, bossman. Just remembering a particularly amusing deposition, is all. "

 

Angel scowled at him. "I cannot believe that this is what we've come to. Sitting in a demon bar listening to Spike talk about how he jacked off thinking about my secretary's ass."

 

"Never said it was Harm's ass I was thinking about, did I?"

 

"Then - oh no, forget it. Not going there in this lifetime or any other. Spike, I don't know what black magic you invoked to make this happen, but that's it. Fun's over. I'm going back to work. "

 

"I should really make a move too," said Wesley.

 

"Right you are, then. I guess you two got - um, things to take care of, huh? Woah there Watcher, take it easy. You'll choke yourself to death." Spike leaned forward and patted Wesley on the back. "There, there. Did that go down the wrong hole, then?"

 

Wesley coughed, finally getting his breathing under control. "Yes, thank you Spike. Anyway, you know that I'm not - "

 

"Not what? Used to having things in the wrong hole?"

 

Wesley glared at him. "I'm not a Watcher. Not any more. You know that."

 

Spike shrugged. "I know you don't watch Slayers any more. But I've sure as hell seen you watching -" He paused, and brought the bottle to his lips for a long, slow pull. "Other things."

 

Gunn let out a short laugh. "Man, you really are a piece of work, aren't you?"

 

Spike took his time licking the remnants of beer from his lips. "You better believe it. I'm a Code Red all the way, baby."

 

"A what now?"

 

"A Code Red. Come on, you know the game. Grade one, first choice, top of the pile."

 

He stopped, and looked from one bemused expression to the other. "You're kidding me, right? You've never played the game? Well hell, you must be the only ones. Everyone else in that firm plays it."

 

Angel leaned forward. "What game? What are you talking about, Spike?"

 

"I can't believe - fuck, your ivory towers really are sheltered, aren't they? Okay, here's how it goes. You have to imagine that the world's been destroyed - not too much of a stretch there, even for you unimaginative bastards - except for the people you work with. So pretty soon there isn't going to be an awful lot left to do with yourself apart from screw like ferrets. So now you have to grade your potential shags. Code Red is a 'yep, I'm there, front of the queue, do 'em in a heartbeat.' Code Orange is 'if I don't get a better offer, why not?' Code Yellow is 'well, okay, I could if I had to, but I'd really rather not'. Code Green is 'only with a gun to my head', and Code Blue is 'just shoot me already.' "

 

"And - people play this game? People in the office?"

 

"Course they do. I was playing with the guys down in Curses &amp; Hexes for hours yesterday, and we - "

 

"So who were you grading?"

 

"Who do you think?" Spike grinned into the silence. "Comparing notes is the best part. You get some surprising stuff come out, sometimes. But then I guess there's no accounting for taste. Apart from where yours truly is concerned, of course. Like I said, everyone agrees this bod of delights is Code Red material."

 

"And Code Red was - "

 

"Yep, I'm there, front of the queue, do 'em in a heartbeat."

 

He took another swig of beer, then leaned back and waited. "So, who's gonna be the first to crack?"

 

"What?"

 

"Who's going to ask what their grades were?"

 

Angel looked away, while Gunn examined his fingernails. Wesley cleared his throat. "Really, Spike. I hardly think that any of us are going to be concerned with such juvenile antics."

 

"Uh huh. So you don't want to know."

 

"Of course not. We've got far more important things to - "

 

Gunn shook his head. "Screw that, Wes. _I _ want to know." He faced Spike. "I'm not a Blue, right? Just tell me I'm not a Blue."

 

Spike patted his hand. "Only to Kevin in the mail room. And he only gives it up to Haslikar demons. Kid's got a thing for tentacles. S'okay, pet, you got a Red off me."

 

"Okay. And yuk. And thanks. I think. Oh, and Spike? You're holding my hand."

 

"Oh yeah. So I am. Come on, though - you got to have known I'd vote you top dollar. What with your, um -" He flicked his gaze downwards. "Considerable assets. Wasn't ever in doubt, was it?"

 

"And what the hell do you know about my people's assets, Spike?"

 

Spike grinned at Angel. "Shower walls are pretty thin, when you're a ghost."

 

"Gunn? Tell me he doesn't mean - "

 

"What? What was I supposed to do? Man's gotta wash."

 

"I don't believe this. Spike, you are just the most unbearable, - "

 

"See, now that's why you only get Yellow. Too much attitude."

 

"- annoying little - what? You gave me a Yellow?"

 

"S'all you deserve, you big lump."

 

"Gunn gets Red and I'm only Yellow? You've got to be kidding me."

 

"Nope. Sorry, pet. But, you know, the novelty's kinda worn off with you. S'got to be fresh blood to make if Red for me these days, if you know what I mean. You're yesterday's news."

 

Spike turned to Wesley before Angel could react. "Well?"

 

"Well what?"

 

"Don't you wanna know what you are?"

 

"No."

"Liar. I can smell - "

 

Wesley stood up, holding his jacket carefully in front of him. "Spike, I've had quite enough of your childish games. Now if you'll all excuse me, I have some things - some work to take care of."

 

Gunn got up too. "Well, I guess that means the party's over. It's been - fun, guys. Catch you later."

 

Angel snorted something that sounded remarkably like 'yellow' before pushing the table away and following. Spike leaned back in his chair and finished his beer. Not a bad evening's entertainment after all. And if he was any kind of judge, it was only going to get better. Now that he was corporeal he'd have to knock on the door of Gunn's shower room instead of waltzing straight in, but hey, there were compensations. And Wyndam-Pryce had been lusting after him since - well, ever. Everyone could see that - apart from the daft git himself, apparently. But Spike knew there was no way that curiosity of his wasn't going to get the better of him. Sooner or later - actually he was banking on slightly later, considering the workout he had planned with Charlie in about half and hour - Wesley was going to be asking about his grade. Purely for some kind of research into employee insubordination or suchlike - and Spike was going to be more than happy to help conduct a few experiments.

 

Oh yeah, this had been a good day's work all right.

 

He whistled as he walked back into the Wolfram &amp; Hart building, a happy tuneless number that lasted through the main lobby and into the elevator, but was choked off outside Angel's office as a hand whipped out and caught him by the throat. It hauled him inside and threw him against the desk as the door was slammed shut behind him.

 

"Now," snarled Angel, hands already unbuckling his pants. "We'll see who's a Code fucking Red, shall we?"

 

-end-


End file.
